Crimes
by Notomys
Summary: Snapshots of the life of a young Igen bluerider during a pivotal point in Pernese history. Follow him as he copes with his personal struggles while trying to survive in a rapidly changing world.
1. The Prizefighter

_Another rewrite. Sorry I've been bad about updating this, busy busy busy busy busy little writer. My main problem is that I already have the story completely mapped out, and re-reading these things just reminds me how many little things I forgot to include. Most of my changes are minor, but it may be helpful to keep an eye out for them. Reviews are always very much appreciated: they help me identify what I need to fix in order to bring you the best story possible! As always, what is mine is mine, what is not is not. _

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**1248.08.21**

**Keroon Hold**

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The young bluerider's head was swimming with Keroon's heavy air and alcohol. The sun was slowly setting over the bay and the temperatures were starting to drop to bearable levels. Like most summertime gathers in the Igen region, the real crowds began to form once the sun went down. While the event had been extraordinarily peaceful, tensions were obvious. Almost all of the dragonmen present hailed from Igen. Unfamiliar faces were greeted with suspicious glowers and uneasy whispers. People clotted in tightly knit circles. Nobody strayed too far from their dragons.

It was a time of deep prejudices among the dragonmen and those that they were sworn to protect. Thread had not fallen in several lifetimes, and the rumors were that it was never coming back. They had fell into antiquity and apathy. Supplies were scarce and suspicions were high. The brilliant gather-time gluttony was an irritation to most of the assembled dragonriders. The tithes sent by Keroon had been exceptionally meager this turn, yet the hold appeared to be prospering. The gather was lavish and the message was clear; Keroon had no need for dragonmen. It was enough to drive any man into nihilism.

K'lain was one of the rare exceptions. He was content to cause chaos without the direct supervision of his dragon's multifaceted eyes. Aside from the blue threaded through his shoulder knots, and the slight bowleg to his swagger, he was indistinguishable from the holderfolk. His Ierynth was far out of sight on the beach, basking in the sun's last rays and flirting with his clutchsisters. K'lain felt no need to brood in the shadow of his beast in some passive gesture of intimidation. He was on the lookout for possible friends and lovers. He was free.

During his youth he took chance kick to the jaw by a runner. His smile was crooked and he wasn't handsome in the traditional sense of the word, but he had more than enough charisma to cover himself. He knew what sort of casual glance best sent knots of holdwomen into whispered conversations about the natures of certain male dragonriders, and how to insinuate to the right sort of men that his interest was more than just passing. And although he had a particular talent in exstracting forbidden fantasies from the mouths of properly bred holderwomen, he preferred more elusive prey.

He scanned the crowds with a carefully trained eye. The air was heady with the scents of sweat and sex and heavy cooking. It wasn't long before he caught sight of a tight tangle of young men. They were shirtless and were slippery with sweat. K'lain moved in. He was having trouble focusing his eyes on anything beyond the cobblestones in the street, and was far too drunk to make any accurate judgment on of their physical appearance. However, they were hooting and hollering like a bunch of rutting herdbeasts. Even from his current distance he could catch the heavy reek of masculinity.

K'lain raised his hand and jovially announced to nobody in particular, "Clear skies and all of that nonsense!" Although many heads were turned in disdain, he was greeted with a chorus of hoots and hollers: invitations to draw closer. He slung his arm over the nearest boy's shoulders and punched him in the arm like an old friend, "Y'all local holder's sons?"

The boy moved uncomfortably under the bluerider's surprising weight and unassuming familiarity. He was a lean adolescent with the dark complexion typical of the region. The boy couldn't even begin to formulate the appropriate response. K'lain however was familiar with the routine. He fought to find his own balance (maybe J'nah was correct when he told him that he should switch to water, where was the sharding greenrider anyway?) and squared his shoulders cockily, "Oi. None of you seem to know how to introduce yourselves. I s'pose I'm obliged to provide a model--" he cleared his throat with mock pomp, "My name is K'lain: born and raised Khelain of Katz Field hold, then sadly corrupted and abbreviated by Igen via a homely beast named Ierynth."

He was very pleased that he was able to proclaim such a complicated string of sentences with a minimum of slurring. A bolder member of the group, perhaps emboldened by K'lain's apparent show of camaraderie offered his own introduction, "There are far too many of us to properly name. You're standing in the company of Igen Hold's finest…er at least Igen's young trouble makers. What brings your company to us dragonrider?"

"A few too many glasses of Igen's finest."

This was answered by several approving chuckles. K'lain was quickly doing what many older (and sober) dragonriders had failed miserably at: socializing with holderfolk. He had begun a careful exchange of gestures and words that quickly established a temporary alliance between strangers. It didn't really matter to him that they did not know the telepathic touch of a partner, or how to pull into a wing pivot directly after a barrel roll without vomiting. The fact that they were willing to permit him into their tangles was all that he needed. K'lain was shuffled from shoulder-to-shoulder, before finally settling on a pale-haired boy (Yoras? Joras? Im-a-ass?). The group rapidly switched to plotting. Finally, somebody suggested something that appealed to everybody's ears, "Marks, hundreds of them. They brought in a prizefighter—huge bloke from the Southern, any lad who'll beat him in a fair fight wins the pot."

Liquid courage, K'lain laughed, "Some southern lad eh? S'pose Igen's hot enough for him?"

"Aye dragonman, but the world is a lot bigger than the Weyr. They breed 'em for size down there."

"For size perhaps. I don't suppose any of you have ever seen a greenflight before?" There were no responses, K'lain gave his audience a wry smile, "Well, I've won my share of them: any my Ierynth is scarcely larger than some of the ladies he woos, you see. Size isn't everything…at least when it comes to enticing the female species to remove her clothing. Afterwards---"

More raucous laughter. The holderboys were under the bluerider's spell, transfixed by the words he spoke, and the subtle suggestions he made. K'lain, even in a completely inebriated state had a certain magic about him. He could tell fairly easily that it was unlikely that he'd get any of them to bed. Years of trial and error had made him an expert on such matters. However, although his original purpose had been completely redirected he still intended on having a good time, "Listen here boys. I have a proposition for all of you."

K'lain's proposition was in laymen's terms, a very bad idea. Dragonriders were generally "strongly discouraged" from participating in any sort of physical competition with holderfolk. They were told that they were far to valuable to Pern to risk on petty games. K'lain knew that this was complete wherry-dung. The Weyr had its Wing Games. He was fairly certain that claustrophobically scaled mock-threadfall (featuring falls of over three dragonlenths and burn-your-head-off-hot fire) was more dangerous than scraping with another chap (on the ground sans the fire). He knew that if one Igen's Wingleaders recognized him as a dragonman in the registration process, he would be barred from participating. His plan was simple.

"Okay you—" K'lain indicated one of the boys whom had a similar build as he. He wished there was more resemblance, but auburn hair was a rarity among southern men, "—you're gonna be me for about an hour or so. We'll switch clothing. You'll be the dragonman K'lain on the sidelines and I'll be eh…what's your name?"

"Nikolai"

"Ok, I'll be Nikolai from Igen. You and your buddies pay my entrance fee, buy me another round of wine and I'll fight. Believe me, the odds will not be in my favor. Makes some bets, I'll win…we all win."

"What if you lose?"

"They you can all have a jolly good laugh at a dragonman's expense. Sound good?"

And indeed it did. While Nikolai did not make an extremely convincing dragonman (he constantly scanned the skies, as if worried Ierynth was going to fall out of it and squish him) K'lain was a passable holderboy. Before too much time could be wasted K'lain was registered for the prizefight, and standing in the cue of challengers. Standing perhaps was a misnomer. K'lain was swaying slightly where he stood with an idiot grin on his face. He watched, practically quivering with boyish excitement as challenger-by-challenger was pushed easily outside the circle drawn on the ground. As his turn neared, he was able to get a better glimpse of the prizefighter.

He was vastly fat and effectively naked. The elaborate decorative markings made on his skin by soot and grease were well smeared, and he was cloaked in a film of sweat. The prizefighter looked impassively at K'lain as he was given a quick rundown of the rules for the fight. No weapons, no teeth, be nice to each other's masculine parts and the first one out of the circle lost. K'lain could hear the noise of coins being tossed in baskets. Odd were not in his favor—and save a handful of rowdy boys from Igen (and one rather scared pseudo-bluerider) most bets were being placed on the prizefighter.

A metal pail was struck once, signaling the beginning of the match. K'lain charged. The prizefighter, whom was very nearly twice his size and five his weight, did not anticipate such a brazen move. K'lain dropped his shoulder and struck the prizefighter in the stomach with as much force as he could muster. Although the impact created a fantastic slapping sound K'lain essentially bounced backwards, the prizefighter was momentarily stunned, but was not knocked off balance, as par K'lain's original plan.

The two circled the ring like cagey animals. K'lain scampering to and fro, the prizefighter moving with slow, deliberate steps that kicked up the loose dirt around the ring. Slight charges were made by both parties, but neither one could get in a hit strong enough to send the other out of the ring. The crowd's cheers grew louder and louder, "Splat the rat!"

"Hang 'um like a wherry over the roasting pit!"

"Toss 'um to the tithes!"

Every once of K'lain's being was focused in the slightly swirling ring around him. As the fight wore on be realized a bit retrospectively that perhaps that last glass of wine had been a bad idea…He hoped that J'nah wasn't watching. However he had stumbled his way through more than one wingfrill. He fought his deadened reflexes with a more animalistic control of his body. As Ierynth turned to K'lain's human intelligence during dragonflight, K'lain turned his mind inwards to his dragon's stabilizing his senses and limbs. A solid fist hit him square in the chest and he flew backwards.

The crowd went "ooooh" as he stumbled to the side, clutching himself tightly, but a left-skip to the side prevented him from being pushed out of the ring. The prizefighter moved in for the kill. K'lain jerked his head up and saw the huge man charging for him. His feet were already dangerously close to the edge of the circle, in addition to cracking a few of his ribs a direct hit would spell his defeat. He closed his eyes and leapt. Had he truly been a Holder's son, or an unfortunate Harper, chances are this action would've resulted in a rather humorous victory for the prizefighter. However, K'lain was a completely different breed. He was a dragonman. The prizefighter's shoulders, when he stood up fully, were probably closer to the ground than Ierynth's.

The unfortunate prizefighter could not have seen this coming. One moment he was charging full speed at what appeared to be a stunned target, the next moment he was oddly top-heavy, and staggering outside of the ring's boundaries with an unidentified weight on his shoulders. Those whom had found something they liked in the challenger were crowing victoriously over the angry shouts of those whom had not, "He's out of the ring!"

"No he ain't! Lookee, he's on his back!"

K'lain had the good sense to jump off of the prizefighter's back before he was thrown. The prizefighter's feet had touched the ground before the bluerider's, although his victory was unorthodox, it was a victory. He was awarded the pot and disappeared into the crowd before anybody important happened to recognize him. Tough meat and one too many tubers was much more favorable than threadscore.


	2. The Flight I

No, I haven't forgotten about this: just had hardcore writers block. Hopefully I've worked through the worst of it and will update sometime soon.

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1248.08.24

Igen Weyr

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The cloudless sky offered no protection against the summer's boiling heat. The Weyrlake, which was already dangerously low, had been transformed into a writhing soup of humans and dragons. Those uninterested in jockeying for space at the water's edge had long since retreated deep into their walls of the Weyr. Heat waves of this magnitude usually were able to beat even the hardiest residents of Igen into languid caricatures of their normal selves. This afternoon however, the entire Weyr was irately restless. 

K'lain was no exception, and was in an exceptionally foul mood. He figured that the best way to sooth himself was to retreat to the dining caverns where he sat, legs askew in a desperate attempt to shed heat, and made a general point to be exceptionally foul towards any drudge that dared approach him. His general posture and facial expression was so exaggerated that one would was prone to overlook the blonde greenrider sitting across from him. The greenrider, a man named J'nah was one of K'lain's closest friends. J'nah said with a thinly disguised layer of contempt, "And you claim to like goldflights."

K'lain adjusted himself slightly, so that he was facing his friend, "I like goldflights when they force the wingleaders to cancel drills. I like goldflights when they permit me to have completely anonymous relations with some pretty face in the lower caverns. I like goldflights when they are followed by delicious food. I also like the fact that goldflights usually result in clutches, which usually result in searchduty. However J'nah…I do not like goldflights when they involve this."

He spread his arm wide indicating the largely empty dining cavern. A combination of the heat, and a recent tithe consisting mainly of half-rotted tubers had ruined most of the appetites in the Weyr. A handful of surly looking bronzeriders lingered in the fair corner. It seemed to be painfully obvious to everybody but the servers that Darkly the bluerider added, "You should go over and make nice with the brutes."

K'lain had selected his words deliberately and knew from J'nah's wounded silence that he had struck a vein. He felt very pleased with himself, despite having hurt his friends feelings. It was, after all, J'nah's fault that he wasn't prowling the lower caverns looking for somebody to enjoy some of the ambient dragonlust. In a softer tone K'lain suggested, "It's not like we're going to be actively involved in the flight."

J'nah shook his head, and said quietly, "It's different for me. We've had this conversation many times before and I'm not keen on repeating it."

In the most melodramatic way possible, K'lain sighed and collapsed himself in a resigned matter on the table. Without bothering to lift his face up from the wood he said, "If it's bothered you all of your life why don't you do something about it?"

"I can't."

Propping his chin up with his palms K'lain rose, and watched his friend carefully, "Don't you get used to it?"

"I've gotten used to a lot of things. There is a reason I didn't stand until my late teens though, they didn't think I was stable enough."

K'lain smiled mischievously and wriggled his finger in the air, "And that my friend is why you must never forget to 'Yes Sir' the right people. Although it's probably safe to say that Old Baggy Bones would probably do anything in his power to prevent us from standing if we had to do it again."

The bluerider's mood began to lift nearly immediately as memories from his weyrlinghood sprang to mind. Y'grek had been Weyrling Master for so many turns that most of the 'riders at Igen had been taught by him. He retired shortly after J'nah and K'lain graduated. It was generally agreed that their was some correlation between these two events. J'nah closed his eyes in mock reverence, "Remember my friend…the look on his face when B'rem invited us to join his wing…"

"Frankly my darling, I am insulted that you think I could ever forget that. It's probably the first time that anybody had to be forcibly removed from a Graduation Ceremony," K'lain stood up, and impersonated his old teacher with unflattering accuracy, "Oi B'rem you ignorant suckling! Aye you fardling dimglow! On the first egg the entire Weyr will be consumed by flames within the end of the turn!"

Although J'nah had to work to stifle laughter, he pulled his friend back down into his seat, "Shhhh! They're staring."

"So?" He offered a sly wave to his audience and shook his head, "You have to admit I was pretty good. I should've been a harper, don't you agree? J'nah?"

A piercing shriek reverberated through the thick walls of the Weyr. J'nah had suddenly stood bolt upright. His eyes had adapted a distant glaze. K'lain felt it several seconds later: a fleeting, but electrifying jolt of anger and lust. The bronzeriders had adapted a facial expression similar to J'nah's, but were already recovering and making their way silently to the junior Weyrwoman's quarters. K'lain could see his friend struggle to regain some sense of composure. He asked, "How is Deleriath?"

J'nah merely exhaled, "I am glad she's mine," he pursed his lips tightly and gathered himself, "So, any thoughts on whom the winner will be?"

K'lain shook his head, "We should talk about something different, at least until the flight's over."

"It's fine, yes, I'd like a cup of that please," the drudge looked slightly bewildered, but filled the empty mug in front of him. Goldflights buzzed nicely in the back of K'lain's mind. He found himself noticing things about his friend that he usually forgot about: how his honeyed complexion was smooth and sunwarmed: the way his light hair seemed to shine with its own light source. J'nah looked at K'lain oddly, "What are you staring at?"

Although he felt guilty, K'lain wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to flirt. Giving his best smirk he said, "You."

J'nah wrinkled his brow and despite the heat, nursed at his drink, "You are not helping. At this rate we might as well be talking about the flight….she's still angry at them…flying higher and higher….gold and bronze."

K'lain didn't say anything, but considered his possibilities. J'nah was one of those rare greenriders whom preferred the company of females over that of males. This preference was nearly pathological. Judging from the slight twitching in his upper lip, the greenrider's preferences were slowly being swept away by the residual lust of the queen. While most people, particularly those that were either Weyrbred, or had spent any significant time at the Weyr could easily shrug off the vibes of a rutting queen and her suitor, J'nah was unusually sensitive to dragons. Dragonlust was no exception. K'lain had agreed to stay with him until the flight was over; to make sure that nothing happened, but with his own inhibitions removed, this task was rapidly proving harder than he had anticipated, "How big do you think the clutch is going to be?"

J'nah answered stiffly, "That depends on if you believe that thread is going to come back."

"It's how many turns overdue?"

The greenrider shrugged and said cryptically, "It has been an unusually long interval. It's important to keep this in mind."

"Keep what in mind."

"If it falls again, it will be within our lifetime."

"That's crackdust. C'mon. Let's go see if List is around. She's always good for a laugh."


	3. The Search

_I'm sorry for the delay. I've hit a bit of a writer's block and had an attack of real life. This section is really rough around the edges, but I'm having a lot of trouble saying what I want to say…bleh. I am hunting around for a beta-reader…so expect this to be updated once I've found one/edited it._

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**The Search**

**1248.12.30**

**Istan Cothold**

K'lain stood face to face with the most disagreeable looking young man he had ever set eyes upon. He was utterly transfixed and unable to do anything but wade through the bizarre sludge of emotions that he had been inexplicably tossed into. The bluerider had never been uncertain of anything in his life until that moment. His doubts were not hatched out of fear for the rules that he was breaking, but out of something deeper. A part of him knew that he was about to make a decision that would have repercussions beyond his imagination.

**take the killer**

Ierynth's sudden mindtouch jolted K'lain. He blinked hard and broke his staredown. The phantasms of questions fled his mind so quickly he didn't have the chance to remember them. The moment was over and the scene had been transformed. He leaned back so that his weight was resting on Ierynth's crooked forearm. Rubbing his eyes fiercely he mumbled, "J'nah. I swear I am never drinking again."

J'nah's green looked mortified for him. She had a habit of miming his expressions and postures, which when it concerned conversation with K'lain generally included varying degrees of embarrassment and self-righteousness. Neither K'lain nor Ierynth had been granted her approval. The close friendship between her rider and **the joker** was the primary source of everything she considered wrong in the world. However, as J'nah had once told her, _You are so gleeful in picking out their flaws that I would not want to deny you such a pleasure._ She had to agree.

**J'nah dear one. Please inform him **she placed special venom on this word, **to try to have some self-restraint**

Ierynth was in the process of examining the holderbrat standing defiantly in front of him, however in Deleriath's opinion (which she reminded J'nah, was the opinion shared by most of the Weyr's authorities) he was doing it wrong. Her rider had told her that they were on a search. While (much to her disgust) she lacked Ierynth's talent in such matters, she had a very defined opinion on what a searchdragon was supposed to do. These things consisted mostly of looking majestic. Ierynth however, looked strikingly similar to an overeager canine. Noticing the fact that his friend's dragon was eying up the reason they had ventured into Istan territory like a side of meat, he decided it was best to interject, "Uh….so…K'lain this is my brother Ikkith."

Deleriath took the time to point out, **Ikkith is not a name for a person and he is a person.** J'nah, whom lacked the ambition to try to explain to his green the situation behind his half-brother's conception, merely said, "He is my brother, and his name is Ikkith."

K'lain cocked his head to the size, as if a change in angle would improve his vision. He said, after an uncharacteristic period of consideration, "Has he ever killed anybody."

J'nah laughed, albeit weakly, "Remember my dear friend, our intentions for visiting him. Do you think I'd suggest such a thing if I honestly thought that he had taken another's life? Why would you say a thing like that?"

The bluerider did not know what was compelling him to secrecy. He had never felt the need to be dishonest to his friend before, but he instinctively knew that explaining his dragon's words would have caused more trouble than it was worth. K'lain cast J'nah one of his trademarked smiles, and wagged his finger at his friend, "Well, I mean, consider the circumstances," every ounce of his being was brimming with mischief, "If our intentions remain as such—and Ierynth thinks that he'll be suitable—we might as well break all of the rules."

"What's all this crackdust about?"

Ikkith had spoken for the first time. His voice was shrill and surprisingly brassy, especially when compared to his brothers gentle tones. The boy was seemed calm, but was bristling like a feral animal. For the first time he took a step backwards from the inquisitive blue dragon. K'lain could recognize the boy's reaction for what it was: terror, despite the fact that Ikkith was doing his best to hide his emotions. K'lain said, casting an irate eye to J'nah, "I was under the impression that you knew that already."

Ikkith shook his head, he hadn't taken his eyes off of Ierynth, but he didn't say anything. J'nah tried to explain himself, "Well, given the circumstances I didn't think it would be wise to give him the details."

K'lain had to agree. Stealing candidates from other Weyr's territory was something that had never been looked favorably upon. Ever since Igen had closed the flights of its junior queens to outsiders tensions between the Weyrs had grown. The only punishments K'lain could envision involved lots of blood. Letters could be intercepted, or fall into the wrong hands. As tight laced as J'nah liked to pretend he was, the greenrider had learned a good deal from K'lain during his Weyrlinghood. The most important lesson was how not to get caught. The bluerider shrugged, "I guess you're right, but there is no reason we need to be so cryptically now."

Affectionately, he patted his dragon's flank, "Listen up Ikkith. This wretched little beastie is my Ierynth. Our reputation proceeds us, but I don't believe it proceeds us this far, so I'll give you a brief summary. He's the best sharding searchdragon ever hatched from Igen sands. He also happens to comprise of the better half of one of the laziest dragonpairs ever to stumble together off of Igen sands. Senior queen Neisserith has just squeezed out a clutch of epic proportions. You follow me?"

Ikkith said, "Split Rock is on Istan territory," his voice was in a monotone, and it was impossible to tell how he felt about the implications of the fact

Smiling brightly, K'lain nodded, "Rightly said. That brings us to the conundrum that has brought J'nah and I here. You see, Neisserith and the other eggsacks have been producing clutches of epic proportions for some time now. It just so happens that there is a limit to the number of searchable individuals in an area….."

Ikkith looked confused. J'nah had a particularly pleading look on his face, but his brother was completely oblivious to this fact. Flashing his crooked, but strangely alluring teeth K'lain concluded, "So we're giving you're an opportunity to wipe your slate clean and have a second chance as a candidate—only at a more pleasant location."

Ikkith continued to look confused. Ierynth said to his rider, perhaps sensing the boys apprehension **Is that why you brought the rope?** K'lain gave his dragon a slight nod, and just so Ikkith and J'nah were not left out of the loop he added, "Oh, and you don't really have a choice."

J'nah (and his green) turned to give the bluerider a dirty look, "Now Ikkith, K'lain is just—"

"—No, I'm not. I don't know the kid and I don't trust anybody. If you don't want to come with us, I'm going to make sure that you're not going to tell anybody we were here."

Ikkith was nonplussed. It was obvious to him that K'lain was not a violent man. Ikkith understood threats better than most boys his age, and he was not particularly impressed by K'lain's feeble attempt. Should he refuse, Ikkith was fairly certain that his ultimate threat would not be any less pleasant than his current situation. While he would've very much liked to watch the squabble that appeared to be brewing between the two dragonriders. he was also an unfortunate conversation of thirsty and hot. Unlike J'nah and K'lain he had been forced to make the trip to their meeting place on foot.

Considering his options for a few seconds (there were not many options he really could consider) very briefly before choosing his path, "It doesn't matter. I'll come willingly, I'm a manlover anyway. Doesn't make me very popular."

Although Ikkith had relaxed (if just a hair's breadth) somewhat since this illicit meeting had begun, he was still obviously wary of the two dragonriders. It had been turns since he had last seen his brother. J'nah, Jennah at the time, had been a candidate at Ista Weyr. Ikkith knew his reasons for turning, and did not approve. K'lain did not know, nor was he especially interested in sordid politics of the past, he was however, interested in making people feel at ease. The bluerider's quicksilver mind considered the circumstances briefly, and then grinning wickedly, "Well my boy, if you're a vile manlover who'd rather—"

J'nah cast him an exceptionally dirty look, unfortunately K'lain took this as a dare to be as explicit as he possibly could be. By the end of his vivid explanation of exactly what he'd rather do, J'nah's sun-darkened face was burning. Although her words were silent to the bluerider, K'lain was sure that Deleriath was jibbering some nonesense to her rider. However, to K'lain's great pleasure something like (but not quite) a smile teased at the corner of Ikkith's face. The boy said, flatly but not humorlessly, "If you put it like that I suppose I should be leaping at this opportunity for—"

"Enough!" It was J'nah's turn to bristle, "This is not some bawdy tavern, nor is Ikkith a member of Big Brown Wing. He's my bother, and I will not stand you--" the greenrider's voice trailed off. His sudden burst of anger had gone as quickly as it had come. He couldn't explain why he had suddenly been so impassioned. It was as if he had seen K'lain swoop predatorily down upon his brother and—and well Ikkith did nothing to resist the advances. J'nah was sensitive to these things. All his life he had been haunted by half-emotions that belonged to others. Some even dared to say that his abilities (or condition, depending on whom you asked) bordered on those of legends. The greenrider knew that something dangerous was slowly unfurling in front of him, and was silently cursing himself for being the catalyst of it all.

Unfortunately the fleeting premonitions K'lain had experienced earlier had vanished like mist after sunrise. He could experience nothing but slight agitation at J'nah's outburst. K'lain's talent to ease people's nerves could just as easily be deployed for purposes of wounding, however before he could even speak, Ikkith stole the words from his mouth, applying them with more rancor that K'lain could ever muster, "My brother. Let us not forget the color of your beast. Unless I am sorely mistaken greens favor men of distinctive orientations. If her color bleeds true, she marks you as the one who favors the company of men far more than any of us."

Deleriath's mindtouch barraged her rider with a slew of appropriate responses to this comment. She was far too well mannered to be as brash as to tell Ikkith these personally (nor did he, in her mind, do anything to warrant such an honor) but even this was tested as J'nah shook his head sadly and said, "So you've chosen to accept our offer?"

His voice dripped of disappointment. K'lain felt a stab of guilt that he couldn't quite place, but Ikkith was undeterred. The boys confidence was growing by the minute, he nodded eagerly. J'nah nodded in response, "K'lain, you and Ierynth should take him. Deleriath is tired."

K'lain knew that the greenrider had wanted to say _I am tired and I do not wish to have my brother press tightly against me and remind me of memories I cannot leave_ but he made no attempt to weasel those words out of J'nah. He merely instructed Ierynth to kneel down. Ikkith scrambled up his back gracelessly, but with surprising ease. When K'lain climbed behind the newly minted candidate he realized for the first time how odd it really was to be sharing Ierynth with anybody else.

Grunting a signal audible to only Ikkith and his blue, they began to make their accent. J'nah followed afterwards, feeling, despite the throng of giddy excitement emanating from his closest friend, completely alone. Deleriath reprimand him sharply, **Don't you go mooning after those jokers. **and he realized that he could never be truly alone again.

With a flash of his home, his true home, J'nah lead the unlikely quintet into the abyss. He had made this journey through nonspace thousands of times before, but the snaking fear that he would never emerge could never be shaken from him. _black _He tried to remind himself that Deleriath was below him _blacker_ she was perfect and whole _blackest_ oh dear Faranth this is taking too long.

**We are home.**

1248.12.30

Igen Weyr

Without word or ceremony a green dragon, followed by a blue, appeared high over the caldera of Igen. The pair circled the Weyr lazily before beginning their descent. The watchrider and his dragon were stirred out of their stupor at the sudden intrusion in the heat-cleared sky. The excitement of the possibility of change was stilled as quickly as it came. He recognized the gangling, midnight colored dragon immediately as Ierynth. His Gilbreth bellowed a greeted and conveyed a message from Ierynth's ride, **He thinks that it would be a good idea to take me swimming with them once we get off duty. I think it's a good idea too**

W'yak shook his head, "I need to mend your leathers tonight. I'm free tomorrow night."

His brown relayed this to the blue, whom shrieked in disapproval. W'yak liked K'lain well enough, but the younger rider was far too irresponsible for his tastes. He did not necessarily agree with the Weyrleader's mantra that threadfall was eminent, but he did believed that as a dragonrider, he held certain ancient responsibly. More importantly, K'lain was W'yak's wingmate, and the brownrider was fairly certain that the younger bluerider was the reason why he had drawn the short straw (watchduty) for three sevendays in a row.

Gilbreth looked skywards longingly, **Deleriath shines so nicely. She is much more agile than the other greens in the Weyr. I think I may want her.**

W"yak winced at his brown's implications, "Deleriath may be nice, but that situation is far too delicate for my tastes. Let's stick to greens whom can handle flights."

The brownrider sighed and leaned back, watching from his lofty perch as the pair of dragons slowly spiraled downwards. He knew that he should enjoy an uneventful watch, but part of him wished sorely that something more exciting than a lusty scoundrel and his minion had landed in the Weyrbowl.

**But Deleriath is very nice to look at.**

-

The contrast was so sudden and jarring that Ikkith cried out in pain and surprise. Utter darkness and cold had, without warning undergone a transformation. He was surrounded by blinding white light and heat. The sudden burst of desert air instantly dried out his throat, and filled his mouth with the taste of dust. He hacked something like a vomiting feline. K'lain whacked him on his back, "You're supposed to breath after we land—the dust gets a chance to settle."

Slowly the candidate pried open his eyes. The sun glare was so severe that he could only make out the vaguest outlines of boulders and cliffs. The Weyr seemed to be completely abandoned. From his limited vantage point he could see no signs of life. Something like panic welled up within him, "where—"

The bluerider intercepted his question, "Heat wave. Days like this wingdrills will kill ya—or at least make you wish you were dead. Most of the wingleaders with a heart will hold drills in the evening on days like this."

J'nah dismounted, causing his own puff of dust, "If it doesn't rain soon the feedherd will be in trouble."

K'lain nodded and sighed as he helped Ikkith off Ierynth's back, "You may want to run back to Ista come meal-time. If the drills don't kill you the food might."

Ikkith looked like a solid meal would finish him off. While he shared J'nah's blonde hair (a trait that K'lain had never seen on another person) the candidate did not have the fortune of copious sun exposure. J'nah's complexion was deliciously honeyed. Ikkith's was sallow and pale, he looked like an anemic cave dweller blinking in the sun. He jumped as K'lain clamped him over the shoulder, "C'mon, I'll introduce you to List. She's working with the candidates now; you'll be under the jurisdiction of the Headwoman, but Wilga is a real wher and you'd do best to avoid her."

Following behind them, J'nah shrugged, "If you had to play the part of wet nurse for hundreds of men you'd be a wher too."

Delightedly, K'lain turned, "My darling, that's positively graphic!"

"Clear the crackdust out of your head! I didn't mean it like that!"

Ikkith snickered, smiled and then said, "Things are never going to be the same now are they?"


	4. The Candidate

_No one has found any signs of A'vird or Abersweyth yet_

_No real notes. What is mine is mine, what is not is not. Another chapter should be up sometime this weekend._

* * *

The Candidate

1248.01.20

Igen Weyr, Candidates Barracks

Ikkith groaned and clenched and moaned and tossed. He was oblivious to the sounds of his classmates as they prepared for their morning chore rotations. Somebody had made a half-hearted attempt to rouse him, but he had lashed out like a cornered animal in delirious pain. The strange candidate was by no stretch of imagination popular with his peers, nobody else made an attempt to aid him. Oh he had played sick before (he couldn't think of the candidate that hadn't) and he had been sick before (with the childhood fevers that claim the lives of many young) but ohohohoh he had not been sick like this before.

It had started that night. He woke up with a start. The air was swimming with the desert's breath and the exhalations of the other boys. His stomach had been churning something terrible before he went to bed. This was nothing new: the cooks at Igen had very unique interpretations of what food was supposed to taste like. This usually involved lots of spice in a lame attempt to hide the fact that most of the produce was already half-rotten by the time it reached the stew pot. The nausea overtook him. The night had been spent hunched and spewing. His guts churned and burned and made a whimpering child out of the usually quite candidate. Cleaning the stables was out of the question. Crawling into a hole to die—that was much more appealing. He curled like some fetal thing and let sleep overtake him.

He awoke with a start, memories of the night assaulted his throbbing head and he clenched his sweat-damp blanket like a child. Sounds of childish disgust fluttered down from some lofty position. Strong hands on his shoulders stirred him to some semblance of consciousness. He lot control, tensed, and dribbled what little bile remained in him down his chin. He spat and shivered and mumblesaid, "I never realized how fardling huge your eyes are."

List made yet another sound of disgust (she was a _dragonrider_ not an auntie!) and shook her head, "Faranth above I'll have you scrub this place when you can stand."

Ikkith made no indication of hearing her, and let his head loll back onto his cot. The bluerider gagged, but fought her own nausea with duty. The entire situation reeked of injustice and ancient chauvinism. She and Olith were perfectly capable in the air, one might even venture to say that they were skilled. Olith might've been a fighting dragon. He might've had all the desire in the world to join his brothers as they drilled for thread that would never fall, but none of it mattered. The Weyrleader's choice held more weight than a hatchling's. She and Olith were not to join the fighting wings.

She half-pulled Ikkith into a sitting position (maternal niceties were never her strong point). He leaned his reeking head against her chest and closed his eyes. He was slick with sweat and hot to the touch, "We need to get you to the infirmary. Why in the name of the red star didn't anybody alert me?"

The candidate just shook his head and clenched her harder. She patted his matted hair (it was white-blonde, this had to be J'nah's brother…nobody else had hair like J'nah…) and directed Olith, _One of my boys is real sick, I am going to try to bring him to the infirmary. Alert Deleriath of this. It is her rider's kin._

She hoisted Ikkith up. A surge of bitterness rose once again within her. The candidate was extraordinarily underweight (which she noted, made his current situation even more dangerous). She out muscled him. If he survived this. If he found his other half. He would undoubtedly be permitted, neigh, expected to fly drills. She mumbled, "If I can lug a puking candidate around the Weyr I can lug a sack of firestone."

Ikkith drolled in a singsong voice, "You're a girl. J'nah told me about you. You're an anomaly. Just like him only you're more obvious that he is. He like women you know. He likes them more than I do. I don't know what I'd do if I'd impress a gold."

"Are you high? Be quite. You'll make yourself sick again, and let me tell you, I'll flog you if you puke on this shirt. It's the last one I have clean."

"You could take it off. I won't care."

"Shush now."

**List my dearheart. Deleriath's wants to talk to you. It is important. Keep the sickling in the barracks.**

_What?_

**He needs to talk to you. You cannot bring the boy to the infirmary.**

List muttered angrily to herself. While Ikkith wasn't in immediate danger of dying, he did need some medical attention. Still, she trusted the greenrider's judgment and urged the boy back down onto his cot, "Stay here—I'll be right back."

Seeing that Ikkith could barely walk, it was unlikely that he was going to go anywhere soon. List reappeared within moments, carrying a heavy earthen mug of water. She sat down beside Ikkith and urged the mug into his shaking hands. He drank shallowly.

J'nah entered the candidate barracks suddenly, trailing riding straps and shedding layers of flight leathers in his wake. He was huffing from the effort of running. Judging from the amount of equipment he brought with him, he had run out on flight drills. List's heart skipped a beat. The situation must have been dire for J'nah to leave a drill. She composed herself, "Greenrider."

"S—s-s-sorry L-list--I--"

He sat roughly on the cot next to her. He was not a large man (which was quite fortunate, given Deleriath's exceptionally petite build) but the combined weight of the three of them made the candidate's cot creak ominiously. He coughed and wheezed as he tried to catch his breath and speak coherently. List tapped her foot impatiently (she would have to run several times across the length of the Weyr to become winded…). After several moments he spoke, "You can't take Ikkith to the infirmary. It's a long story."

"Well you better hurry."

J'nah looked anxious, he stretched felinely and inhaled deeply, "He's my brother. That much is true…"

She shook her head, "Don't tell me—you searched him under false pretenses. Faranth. It's not that big of a deal. Every searchrider with younger siblings has…"

J'nah winced, "Well, the good news is that he was actually searched. Ierynth really liked him."

"And Deleriath?"

"She can't search her way out of a wherden. We both know that. Ierynth is good enough for the both of them."

"Regardless, why in the name of the red star shouldn't I take him to the infirmary."

"Because. Because I am not Igen—he's not either. We. We searched him on Istan ground. Gligar, one of the apprentices in the infirmary, we transferred him in from Ista. The crafts aren't like the holds. They're independent, but that doesn't matter. I'm afraid that he'll recognize Ikkith."

List was speechless. J'nah had summarized several years of unspoken history in the span of a breath. She didn't understand a word he was saying, but she could see the edges of his story. Being privy to such scandal was shocking. Ikkith spoke, suddenly, complicating matters even more, "I didn't kill the sharding bastard."

The bluerider stood suddenly, letting Ikkith fall roughly to the side. She firmly planted her hands on her hips and shook her head, "J'nah, I like you. I really do, but this is too deep for me. I'm in enough trouble as it is. Shaffit! Olith and I are grounded. Grounded. I'm getting Wilga right now. You don't need to explain your sordid story to me."

She moved to leave, but made the fatal mistake of looking back. There was something about the bleak and pleading facial expression of J'nah and his half-conscious brother that tugged at something within her. She tried to stamp it away, but failed, miserably. She found herself sitting closely next to J'nah, periodically helping him prevent Ikkith from vomiting outside the chamber pot, listening quietly as he spoke.

J'nah wasn't like K'lain. J'nah was no storyteller. His story was strangely impassioned and gritty. More importantly, from the moment he began to speak, List knew that every word her friend spoke was true. Ikkith tensed as if to protest, but the urge passed. J'nah's judgment was true.

* * *

The greenrider sighed at last, and ran his fingers through Ikkith's pale hair, "--and that's why he can't go to the infirmary. He'll be recognized for sure, and I can't have him sent back there."

List had never had any troubles expressing her opinions, but for the first time in her life the stonehard drive to speak and direct had left her wholly. Olith, whom was contendedly sunning in a sandy wallow outside the candidate barracks was snoozing lightly. Without his running commentary, to her surprise, she was unable to reach any conclusions. She just sat and let her eyes wander from J'nah to his puking brother. She closed her eyes, her decision came quickly, "I understand."

"So you won't report this?"

"I'm no healer. It's dangerous—being like that, but I doubt it will kill him. He can't stay here though. We should probably try to get our hands on that salty stuff they hand out after hard drills, he needs to get some fluids."

J'nah shook his head in agreement, "I know, those won't be hard to get."

"He can't stay here though. I can't risk it. This…this is dangerous enough as it is. It's like they'd give me a reprise is anything goes wrong."

"Well, if things do go wrong…"

"what?"

"We are dragonriders—disposing the remains should pose no problem."

List felt shivers rise up her spine. She had known J'nah for quite a long time, and he was easily one of the most mild mannered riders of the Weyr. Something about the way he held his brother tightly against him while discussing what should happen if he died…was quite chilling. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, J'nah was pragmatic. Ikkith was sick, yet the circumstances prevented him from being taken to the infirmary, the consequences, however unlikely, had to be considered. The bluerider tried to put herself in the same mindset, "Well, once he leaves the barracks he is out of my jurisdiction. He cannot be housed here, you'll have to bring him to your Weyr."

J'nah looked stricken, "I—I can't."

"J'nah, I'm about to risk my reputation, which may I remind you is much frailer than yours, and you're going to tell me that you can't even—"

He cut her off, "Listen. Ask Olith. He'll tell you. So will Ierynth. So will half of the shoddy males in this Weyr. Deleriath is going to rise soon, maybe even later today…I…" He stopped suddenly, in grim realization, "K'lain owes me more favors than I can count. I'll have Deleriath summon him after drills are over. Ikkith can stay with him."

"So it's settled then. This is out of my hands, you'll take him out of here as soon as possible and pass him over to K'lain. If things go sour…well, if things go sour…I've never heard of Ikkith."

A smile brushed at J'nah's lips, "Thank you. I truly thank you."

His voice was soft and smooth, like nearly everything that compromised him (except that bitch of a green). List watched as he carefully hoisted his half-limp brother up, and petered out of view. She smiled briefly, but quickly turned to the fluid mess on the floor of the barracks—her barracks. J'nah owed her. Big time.

**Ierynth asks if you would like to meet his for drinks tonight with Big Brown Wing**

_No dearheart. Not tonight._

* * *

1248.01.20

Igen Weyr; Eastern wall, K'lain's weyr

A lesser man would've considered the night a terrible failure. Although he had played upon the branches of nearly every single one of his contacts he had failed to find a friend whom was interested in drinking or being merry. To make matters worse, he found himself babysitting an illegitimate candidate. K'lain however, took the events in stride. He sat with Ikkith, whom had fortunately taken a turn for the better, and sipped from a liberally sized skin of wine. The wine had been stolen from the Weyr's stores—hold habits die hard.

Fuzzy and buzzy from the wine, K'lain prodded Ikkith with the end of his boot. K'lain (and most of his wingmates) were avid drinkers, thus the bluerider had developed a keen sense of telling when somebody was likely to sick all over the bed. Ikkith, although stone sober, was in this category, thus K'lain had relegated the puking boy to his floor. Ikkith stirred awake and turned wearily. He looked like something Fat Momma had dragged in.

K'lain, confident that he had awoken Ikkith, kneeled on the floor next to him. He had let Ikkith sleep for most of the afternoon, but an unconscious person could only provide so much entertainment. The candidate clawed at his crusted eyes and tried to remember how to work his mouth, after several failed attempts he managed, "Well, you're right about the food being sharding terrible. Got any more of that piss-water?"

K'lain offered him the wineskin. Ikkith weakly laughed and crawled over to the electrolyte solution his brother had nicked from the infirmary, "It's a good thing you're not a healer."

The bluerider grinned and took another deep swig. Ikkith had propped himself to a sitting position. They scrutinized each other with avid curiosity. K'lain stated the obvious, "A bath, or two would help."

"I could always use the company."

Like the rest of his complexion, Ikkith's eyes were pale and washed out, a color of gray that couldn't quite managed blue. His exhaustion was obvious, being able to swallow water without spewing was an accomplishment, but dangerous curiosity lurked behind his overtly miserable expression. K'lain was an expert at reading such subtle cues that people half-hid. Ikkith was a strange one. Even K'lain found most of his gestures and suggestions esoteric, but something in his eyes sparked the question, "Are you propositioning me?"

"Maybe."

It was ridiculous. Ikkith, although only a handful of years K'lain's junior, was a candidate, and at that point in time he was a stinking-sickly-vomit-crusted candidate. K'lain chuckled to himself, "Cheeky little wherry, I'm a wicked man. You have to be careful of what you say."

"I bet I'm worse."

"So is it true what J'nah told me, about you and your, his, father?"

"Maybe."

"You're father's dead now, right?"

"Maybe."

The possibilities dripped from his voice. The pleasant feeling of alcohol dulling the blueriders brain seemed to be draining away. K'lain found himself slowly standing up, unable to take his eyes off the queer creature on the floor. He had to be innocent, else J'nah never would've brought him to Igen. Never mind that, no Weyr would tolerate somebody guilty of slaying a dragonrider life. Still, Ikkith's voice echoed through K'lain's mind.

_maybe_


	5. The Candidate II

**Authors Notes:** i_nsert general copyright stuff here, this is a work of fanfiction._

_Sorry this took longer than I expected it (and came out a tad longer than I expected it). Read and review so that I know what to target when I go back and edit this. I tend to have trouble balance my action scenes with emotional scenes, so feedback on how I paced this in particular would be helpful. The next chapter should be out sometime next week. Keep your eyes peeled. Happy reading. _

* * *

The Candidate II

1248.01.21

Igen Weyr

* * *

The knife trembled in Ikkith's hand, surprisingly heavy for its size. He considered his angles carefully, his movements were almost tender as he traces its silver blade against the cloths worn surface. He hesitated just a moment, nobody was watching, before he clenched the knife in his thin hands and dug it into the rider's shirt with predatory savagery. A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the Weyr.

Ikkith looked up lazily from his work. His initial alarm was quickly replaced with a feeling that he couldn't quite place. K'lain lay on the ground of the Weyrbowl, screaming and kicking and completely covered in what looked suspiciously like pond scum. Ierynth stood above him, covered in the same substance. The blue dragon carried an expression suspiciously like Deleriath's. He was obviously not pleased with his current situation. K'lain continued to roll around on the ground, coating himself with dust, he moaned, "It buuuurns! It buuurns like fiiiiiiiiiiire!

Ikkith smirked and went back to his work. While he was feeling much better than he had the previous day, but his brief illness had weakened him considerably. List had excused him from his normal chores, which were quite physically demanding, and found him alternate work. He had spent most of the morning cutting the Weyr's discarded garments into long strips for Big Brown Wing to train with. Watching the dragonmen burn and dodge his handiwork was highly entertaining, but paled in comparison to K'lain's 'death throes.'

Ierynth was agitated. Threadfighting was one of the few things that the blue dragon took seriously. He and K'lain were strong, if dangerously reckless fliers, being 'scored', even if it was only with mud, was an utter disappointment, _Tell Ytterith's rider that it was Deleraith's fault_

K'lain was too busy pretending to be horribly maimed to respond. His performance was having the desired effect. The rest of Big Brown Wing, terribly distracted by the screams and moans of their wingmate, were quickly succumbing victim to the floral-patterned thread a pair of unlucky Weyrlings were sprinkling overhead. Another bluerider landed next to Ierynth, covered with the same markings, unfortunately his rider's behavior was not as colorful as K'lain's. He merely looked annoyed.

Three greens and two more blues joined the 'injured' before Ytterith conveyed his rider's commands for his wingriders to land. The remaining riders of Big Brown descended in a messy circle loosely around their wingleader. K'lain was silent, although this was because he had scream himself hoarse, not from any order. B'rem looked murderous, "May I ask you what happened?"

There was a sudden babble as everybody tried to explain their shoddy performance at once. Most of their answers seemed to include the words, "K'lain" and "noise." Ierynth said, with a touch of pride to Ytterith, _I did not scream. I knew my rider was not hurt_

Ytterith conveyed this to B'rem, whom nodded, "Please men, do not blame this on the bluerider K'lain. While his interpretations of my commands were—unorthodox—you all must remember what we are trying to accomplish."

Somebody suggested, "Burn the Weyr's old laundry?"

"No M'voy. The reason we are here is to try to mimic an actual threadfall. I'm assuming, seeing that you all passed Weyrlinghood."

Nobody responded, although K'lain was furiously trying to think of some witty retort to his wingleader's question. Grimly, B'rem said, "People die. People die horribly. Their skin bubbles, the heat makes their eyes boil out. Dragons shriek and vanish forever. We should all be graceful that none of us have, or ever will see the aftermath of threadfall. If this was an actual combat situation those of you whom were badly scored would not merely sit in the Weyrbowl to chew the fact with your wingmates—oh no—you'd be screaming for your sharding mums, much like our good friend K'lain. "

K'lain was grinning broadly. J'nah looked miserable. The rest of Big Brown was not far behind him. The drill had been usually grueling, and their shoddy performance would undoubtably inspire B'rem to bring their training to new levels of intensity, "—Now, I'm not going to bother giving you all criticism, because I can say with utmost honesty that I've seen wherries fly better than you louts. There is no way we will beat old left-arm's wing in the games this spring if we keep it up. Now next we are going to--"

B'rem was interrupted but his wingsecond, "Excuse me brownrider."

Although obviously displeased with the interruption, B'rem let P'lok continue, "We've been drilling all morning. The sun's nearly at its highest and I think that it may be prudent to break for lunch. If all of your riders are in the infirmary with firehead I doubt we'll have much of a chance against the Weyrling's Wing, much less Bridges Fell."

B'rem grunted noncommittally, obviously displeased that his riders would dare to suggest something like lunch...Ytterith's running commentary on the status of his riders irritatingly lingered in his head, _Filbreth says he is hot. Piglioth says his rider is not comfortable. Ierynth says that it is all Deleriath's fault. Deleriath is very nice. I like her. Deleriath says her rider does not wish to continue. Eryth says his rider is hot…_ the brown continued, naming every single one of his riders. Resigned to the fact that most of his riders were in danger of melting, B'rem called for a break, threatening, "If any of you try to skive practice it'll be watchduty for a sevenday!"

* * *

Judging from the morose looks shared my most of the dragonriders in the dining cavern, Big Brown had not been the only one two suffer a disappointing morning. There was not a single wingleader that looked proud of their men, as a slow precession of riders sought refuge from Igen's sun. B'rem had tried to coax his wingriders to sit with him and P'lok, but for the most part they dispersed, unwilling to spend their entire break going over difficult maneuvers. K'lain and J'nah found a table in the corner. J'nah was unusually disheveled, he hadn't bothered to tie up the lose pieces of hair that fell around his face. K'lain didn't really care to notice, he was far too preoccupied with his own performance, "Man, I really should have been a harper—did you see me—oh look, it's List!"

He stood and waved broadly at his fellow bluerider. She looked just as haggard as J'nah, if not more so. Slowly she picked her way through the cavern to their table. K'lain flagged down one of the candidates for a pitcher of fruit juice. The boy avoided his master's steely stare. List shook her head, "You wouldn't /believe/ what these boys are capable of doing to one another. Animals."

K'lain's exuberance would not be deflated. He poured List a glass of juice and nodded, "I know. I was one once too you know."

List massaged her eyes, "I need something stronger than klah."

K'lain clapped her on the back and whispered quickly into her ear, "Please realize my dear that things could be much worse."

He was referring of course to J'nah, whom had not said a word since they sat at the table. He was unusually pale and toeing the edge of panic. List quickly looked over the greenrider and shook her head. It bothered to her see J'nah in such a state. His behavior was not only abnormal, especially for a Weyrborn man, it was dangerous. She caught K'lain's eyes ad asked quietly, "Soon?"

He nodded, "Probably today, tomorrow at the latest."

Although List knew that J'nah was essentially oblivious to anything directly outside of his own head, she didn't like talking about him like he wasn't there. Although his eyes were listless and he wasn't blinking quite as often as a normal human should, he was still sitting right in front of them. She turned to J'nah and tried to look him in the eyes, "J'nah, are you ok?"

No response.

"J'nah, c'mon, I know you can hear me."

He nodded uncertainly, and then shuddered violently. List reached over the table and tried to place her hand over his, but he flinched away. K'lain muttered, "C'mon List, it's useless, let's try to get something to eat before B'rem calls us for afternoon practice. J'nah will be fine."

Reluctantly List turned her attention to her klah. She listened inattentively as K'lain filled in the heavy silence with nervous banter. Something like hunger growled in her belly, but she couldn't find the desire to eat. Her mind kept returning to the dead look in J'nah's eyes. It was an expression that she had seen only on a few unfortunate individuals, and cared deeply never to see it again. Although she knew that her concerns were unfounded, she asked J'nah, "So, how is she."

"Asleep," he said this very flatly. There was an uncomfortable silent that K'lain tried to fill by humming the chorus of one of his favorite drinking anthems. J'nah broke the silence, but his voice was unnaturally high and strained, "I think. I think I may go lay down for a bit. Yes. K'lain, please tell B'rem that…that I won't be around. I'll. I'll. I'll see you all around okay?"

K'lain waved him off with one hand. His other hand was occupied trying to keep List from following him. He shook his head, "List, you're not going to accomplish anything. We just need to pretend like everything is perfectly normal. Let the whole ordeal end itself quickly."

She narrowed her dark eyes, "It isn't right of you to make light of this."

"But I'm not. That's why I'm starting to get agitated. It's like walking on eggshards with the lot of you. J'nah needs to get over his fears. You fawning over him is not going to help matters. It's like, like when your dragon is frightened, the last thing you want to do is panic. You'll just panic him more. It's the same with J'nah. Now please me pet. Let's put this unpleasant matter aside and dig into some lunch," The bluerider cast a furtive glance over at his wingleaer. B'rem was nearly finished.

List however, would not be so easily convinced. She nibbled half-heartedly at the end of a redfruit. K'lain sighed exasperatedly. It was not his fault that J'nah was such a miserable and flighty man. List needed to learn that she was not going to fix him, no matter how hard she tried. He mused upon that point for a few moments before saying, "As much as you deny it, you're still such a woman."

Although K'lain said the words casually, he knew exactly what reaction he was about to invoke. The dark glower that had been hovering on the edge of List's facial expression erupted into an angry scowl. Had she been a less dignified woman she would have struck the other bluerider with all of the force within her wiry frame. Seething silently she stood up, trying to find a retort that would know affirm what K'lain had said. Finding none she cast K'lain a look that would've terrified a lesser man before storming out of the dining cavern, scattering anybody whom dared tried to stand in her way.

K'lain let out a long, low whistle. It was quite unfortunate that his friends were being such dunderglows, but as always, it wasn't his fault. He looked around, suddenly bored with his situation, and spotted a group of people whom undoubtedly would appreciate his company much more than J'nah and List. Without a second thought, he stood and joined his table.

Halfway through pantomiming an elaborate story about an unfortunate social blunder one of his wingmates had made as a candidate a small jolt bolted K'lain's spine. His first impression was that Ierynth was conveying a message from Ytterith ordering him and the other members of Big Brown back to the Weyr Bowl for more drills, but then his vision quivered. He slowly lifted his arm off of the wooden table, but still felt sun warmed stone underneath him. He flexed his hand and felt the ghosts of talons griping tightly.

He cursed loudly under his breath as his vision shook again. He only had a few moments to consider his options, and unfortunately wasted those moments cursing anybody whom claimed that it was easy to call a dragon out of greenflight. Ierynth was on the chase.

Most dragons would have the decency to give their riders a spot of warning, or at the very least spare a few moments ferrying them to the greenrider's weyr. K'lain's blue normally did not overlooks such niceties, but this flight would be different. Deleriath's always were. It was fortunate that J'nah not only had a weyr accessible by foot, but that K'lain was very familiar with its twisting route. K'lain had made this trip uncountable times before, often so inebriated that he had to clutch onto the wall to keep himself from falling off of the world. He leaned heavily against the wall this time as well, fighting the dizzying sensation of vertigo as Ierynth launched himself skywards.

For the second time that day a blood chilling scream penetrated through the Weyr, but this time the noise was so wholly +not human+ that it caught the attention of many whom might've just written it off as a normal occurrence. Ikkith was among those whom looked skywards, trying to find the origin of the shrieks. It was strictly against the rules for candidates to ogle at greenflighs, but that just made them more interesting. Ikkith was only mildly surprised to recognize the creature streaking skywards, her belly was so dark that it was nearly black, it had to be J'nah's Deleriath.

Something was subtly wrong with the flight. From Ikkith's observations, and the general consensus of his instructors, greenflights were much more enjoyable than goldflights. Queens were responsible for producing more dragons, and thus were hardwired to be scornful of any male whom tried to mate them. Greens on the other hand knew intrinsically that their flights were just for sport. If Deleriath's shrieks were any indication she was not enjoying the experience, she was jerking through the sky in a messy panicked arch.

J'nah was the mirror of his green. He had plastered himself against the wall of his weyr in a pathetic attempt to hide from the riders that courted his dragon. Her list of suitors was unusually short. With the exception of the four behind her, most of the dragons which had expressed any interest in the rising green were quickly dissuaded by their riders.

Ierynth. Olith. Gilbreth and a blue that Ierynth could not recognize. K'lain paused momentarily at this, he was very well connected, especially within the masses of green and blueriders of Igen, seeing a stranger could only mean one thing…but it wasn't the time to think about politics. He squared himself and focused on climbing the last few stone steps to J'nah's weyr. As he pushed his was through the cloth draped over his entryway his mind gave an almighty quiver.

K'lain and Ierynth suddenly became a single entity. The bluerider remained solidly on J'nah's stone floor. He was aware, in a vague dreamy sense of his physical surroundings, but he could do nothing other than grope in desperate desire at the pale figure shaking and silently screaming in the corner. He let Ierynth take control.

Ierynth had always been the runt. His proportions were awkward and constructed by somebody whom obviously had very poor knowledge of draconic anatomy. His legs were too long and his wings stuck out in strange angles. His eyes bugged out as he bugled his propositions to Deleriath. Although the cries that fell from his throat were without words, their implications were utterly filthy. She was oblivious to them. Her mind was tunneled on the thought of escape. She paid no heed to the males behind her.

J'nah whimpered pitifully as ghosts of her pain became his own. His green was tearing through the sky in wonton disregard for her own physical limitations, every panicked wingstroke ripped muscles from bones. List boldly stepped forwards as Olith caught up to Ierynth. K'lain found himself pushing her away, miming Ierynth's motions. His blue was making twisting feints at the other males, trying to force them off course. Olith was undeterred, not only was he much longer than Ierynth, but he was also thickly built.

Had Deleriath been in her right mind, she might've been more successful in her endeavors of escape. Although she was normally fairly analytical, especially for a green, her frantic desire to get away clouded any chance of strategy. She was tiring, quickly, and void of the typical aerobics making a greenflight, her suitors were quickly catching up. This would be a brutally short flight.

It was a terrifyingly dangerous situation. Deleriath was essentially flying blind. Her own inhibitions were exponentially increased by J'nah's, yet despite her own, inexplicable flight-terror, physical drives were coursing through her. The dichotomy of desires would've been stressful even with the calming influence of her rider.

Her suitors were flying close behind, neck and neck with one another. Although Deleriath was oblivious to their antics, they were all utilizing extremely dirty tactics. Ierynth seemed intent on driving the other males out of the sky, being the smallest of the group by a significant factor he was able to perilously weave in between them. Olith was rapidly getting very agitated with Ierynth's tactics, and as they all rose skywards at an alarmingly steep angle, was beginning to refuse to get out of the other blue's bumbling way. The third blue, something about his color seemed dangerously off, was following a small distance behind the others. He was not yet out of the running, but he seemed exhausted before the flight even began.

Gilbreth, keen perhaps to show the blues their proper place, was also flying aggressively. He and Ierynth were swooping perilously close, their wingtips tangling. K'lain bellowed in Ierynth's anger. The blues passions had completely consumed him. He swung heavily in W'yak's direction. Fortunately he was still with Ierynth, whom was frantically trying to detangles himself from Gilbreth and lacked the coordination to land the blow. Olith and the graying blue flew past them. With a final push (making no effort to avoid scratching the brown) Ierynth pushed himself away from Gilbreth.

K'lain could feel Ierynth's fatigue fall upon him. He was panting heavily, as if his own breathing could help his blue catch his breath. He lustily stared at J'nah, admiring him not for what stood in front of him, but for the faltering green flying just out of reach. The circle of riders around J'nah was slowly closing in upon him. He was cornered.

Something in his eyes faltered for a moment. Deleriath's wing, abused and strained, suddenly froze midstroke. She quivered midair, but caught her balance before any of her suitors could take advantage of the situation. Her wingbeats were completely stiff and spent. They were quickly closing in on her. For the first time in the entire flight she turned to look at those behind her. They were all effectively strangers and were all equally terrible. She would not let any of them touch her. She pressed further, tumbling through the air as her muscles began to fail her.

She would _not!_

She would _not!_

Her body began to fall.

_No. They shall not!_

Olith suddenly surged forward with a surprising burst of speed. He might have been denied the daily rigor of wingdrills, but List has seen to it that her dragon did not become nothing more than a highly interactive housepet. List muttered in needy lust as her dragon closed in on Deleriath. She would be had. All greens had to be caught.

_No. I shall not!_

Her words dashed through J'nah with surprising clarity. He inhaled sharply as he realized her intentions, but was completely helpless. Her wants were his. It would be over. The fear, the pain, the sharp undeniable desire. It would be black. The seconds seemed to slow down into ages. Ierynth shrieked his indignation as he saw the other blue move in on Deleriath. He too surged forwards but it was much too late for him to make any difference. List was moving in on J'nah, the fierce protectiveness that usually burned in her eyes was replaced with an entirely different emotion all together. She looked like an animal. While the other riders had quickly made their exits as their dragons spiraled away from Deleraith, K'lain stood transfixed. Olith made contact with Deleriath, his neck twining around hers.

_He shall not!_

There was a sudden moment of clarity in J'nah's eyes as Deleraith inhaled (her last?) and made one final attempt to detangle herself from Olith. It was futile. She had no choice.

_He shall not!_

It would all be over in a moment…

List gasped as she realized what was happening, if J'nah sent Deleraith _/between/_ then Olith…without thinking she balled her hand into a fight fist and clocked J'nah as hard as she could, "Control her or you kill them both!"

K'lain, whom until that moment had completely dismissed the possibility that there was any potential outcome of the flight other than J'nah bedding somebody he didn't like and crying about it in the morning, stood in horror. For the first time in his life he was thankful that Ierynth was breaking free of the flight, returning (safely) defeated back to the ground. There was a sickening crack as List's first made contact with J'nah's nose. Blood was everywhere. K'lain waited to hear the sound of keening dragons.

After a few moments of silence he realized quite suddenly that Olith and Deleriath were not lost forever, rather they were safely locked in the mating embrace…as were J'nah and List, broken noses aside…K'lain adverted his eyes in a sort of disgusted horror and stumbled out of his friends weyr.

A few women, weyrfolk or drudges K'lain did not know, had gathered outside of J'nah's chambers, waiting for the losers, more than willing to provide some release. Flights could be sharding unbearable to lose. K'lain looked over them briefly. The lust that had consumed Ierynth was still funneling through his brain. Momentarily he reached out to touch the check of one of the girls.

Her eyes were brown, but a light honeyed brown, flicked with sun. Eager eyes. Faranth they were just like J'nah's. K'lain pulled his hand away and adverted his eyes. The sounds of his friend's lovemaking was making his stomach churn in something like jealousy. He looked at the girl, he thoughts returning to J'nah, and much to the disappointment of the group, quickly retreated to his own weyr, calls of "tease" following behind him.

The glows had gone dark, but some sunlight still flitted through into the room. K'lain tried to clear his head, ignoring the demands his body was making. He was entitled to J'nah. He was the one who would have to listen to him complaining about the flight, he might as well have been the one to win it, J'nah's preferences bedamned. The bluerider sat roughly down on his cot, it creaked under his sudden weight. The momentary silence was broken unexpectedly. Ikkith had emerged from the shadows of the weyr. His face was unreadable. He seemed so much more delicate than his brother.

The candidate looked at the floor, "Ierynth returned a few minutes ago. He seems quite agitated."

K'lain stared at the thin lines of his body. Ikkith's complexion was pale, almost dusty, especially in the low light. He started, "—I just lost--" but broke off and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Ikkith smiled esoterically and met K'lain's eyes. The candidates eyes were expressionless. The bluerider wondered momentarily if they had always been so dull. He didn't say anything, but it was obvious what he was doing. K'lain reached out and found that he was grasping Ikkith's bird-thin wrists like a drowning man. Ikkith's smile continued as K'lain rose under Ierynth's savage direction.

As his lips met Ikkith's he knew that he had failed J'nah utterly and completely.


End file.
